


Like a Bad Habit

by notmyyacht



Series: Nevada & His Precious Penguin [4]
Category: Gotham (TV), Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Booty Calls, Crossover Pairings, Dancing, M/M, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Unhealthy Relationships, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 13:58:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14238774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmyyacht/pseuds/notmyyacht
Summary: It’s a call sometimes at one in the morning, sometimes at three in the afternoon. It's not about love or lust. It's just a habit they can't seem to kick. At least, that's what Nevada keeps telling himself.





	Like a Bad Habit

**Author's Note:**

> I said I wasn't going to write for them anymore BUT I MISSED THEM OKAY
> 
> Anyway this doesn't really take place anywhere specific and can pretty much stand on its own. Completely unbeta'd so any and all mistakes are on me! Enjoy!! =D

It’s not lust, but it’s not love.

It’s a call, sometimes at one in the morning, sometimes at three in the afternoon. It’s a call, then a quick drive where Nevada can’t stop his fingers from tapping his thigh in anticipation. Sometimes he calls, sometimes Oswald calls him. Either way, within the hour they’re always slamming a door shut and hastily pulling at clothes.

It’s not lust. Nevada can get sex whenever he feels like it, usually from anyone he wants. Those he wants are always willing: a prostitute from the corner, a girl in a loud club, a junkie eager to do anything for a hit.

Still, Nevada calls Oswald.

Perhaps it’s the emotional connection, Nevada ponders one day as he's buttoning up his shirt. He spares a glance at Oswald, who averts his gaze altogether. He wonders if Oswald is ashamed. Why should he be? It’s a way for them to vent their frustrations. A way to get out anger and passion without the emotional baggage that comes with a relationship.

One time Oswald cries out the name of someone else as he comes all over Nevada’s stomach. Nevada sees only red as he shoves Oswald off of him and shouts angry, nonsensical things at him. Nevada doesn’t care if Oswald wants to fuck him to forget someone else, as long as Oswald remembers its _Nevada_ who’s fucking him in the moment.

Still, it’s Nevada who calls again the following week.

When they meet up, Oswald puts on a mask. He’s not afraid of Nevada, not like he used to be. Nevada’s penguin has grown into his own to not be afraid of him anymore. The mask he wears is one of indifference. As if Nevada throwing him out of that cheap hotel room didn’t mean anything.

Perhaps if they both keep pretending, it’ll make it true.

This time Nevada makes sure Oswald is looking him in the eyes. Nevada usually hates having sex in this position. It’s so generic, so easy. But he needs Oswald to look at him. To lie on his back under Nevada’s weight with his good leg hooked over Nevada’s shoulder as he gets pounded into the mattress.

This time, the name on Oswald’s lips is the right one.

The best times are when Oswald calls him. When Oswald practically leaps into Nevada’s grasp and begs for his touch. When he’s already half-undressed by the time the door closes. Sometimes they don’t even make it to a room, or they don’t even undress all the way.

Oswald rutting against him in the back of his car like an animal in heat is something Nevada never gets tired of. All it takes is a hand down Oswald’s well-tailored pants, followed by a few rough strokes and it’s over. Sometimes that’s all they need.

One time, Oswald doesn’t even call him. He just shows up at Nevada’s favorite club. Little bastard has the gall to be furious that Nevada already has someone in his lap. Before the night is out, Nevada ditches the chica for Oswald’s mouth in the back alley behind the club. Nevada spots that girl in the crowd the next night and laughs to himself.

One late night he calls Oswald to meet him at the club. Oswald looks pissed about something, but Nevada doesn’t ask. He simply takes Oswald’s cane and hands it to the nearest bodyguard.

“Come with me,” he says, slipping his hand into the same one that held the cane. Oswald asks where they’re going, but gets no reply.

Nevada leads Oswald to the middle of the dance floor then turns to him.

“Dance with me,” he says.

Oswald shakes his head.

“I-I can’t,” he says. Nevada places his hands on Oswald’s hips and brings him close. Oswald stills at the feel of the warm body against his. “Why Pingüino, I do believe you’re blushing.”

Oswald’s jaw sets and he leans in closer, wrapping his arms around Nevada’s shoulders. He keeps his face turned away and says nothing; Nevada leads and they both sway to the music.

Nevada pulls back only so he can twirl Oswald once. Oswald lets him. It’s a slow spin with the limp, but Nevada doesn’t rush it, even when it makes their movements fall out of sync with the music. A smile curls the corners of Oswald’s mouth as he presses his back against Nevada’s chest; Nevada buries his face into the crook of his neck.

It’s the closest they ever get to romance.

Then Oswald stops calling.

Nevada is on the phone with his brother-in-law, pacing in front of a muted television. He stops short when he sees Oswald’s face grace the screen. He suddenly can’t remember the last time he saw that face in person. Was it weeks ago? Months? Somewhere along the line, Nevada had stopped calling too.

“You still there?” he hears on the other end of the phone. Nevada snatches up the remote with his free hand and pushes too hard on the power button.

“Yeah, I’m still here.”

Later that afternoon, Nevada hears Oswald’s voice on the other end of the line.

“I need to see you,” says Nevada.

“Now’s not a good time.”

“Is it ever?”

There’s a long pause on Oswald’s end. Nevada feels the urge to tell him to forget it and hang up. He isn’t sure why he even called.

No, he knows why.

He missed him.

Fuck.

Finally, Oswald’s voice breaks through Nevada’s growing anger at himself.

“Meet me in an hour.”

And just like that, they’ve picked up their old habits.

Within the hour, Nevada is tearing at Oswald’s freshly pressed shirt and biting at what flesh he can find. Ten minutes later, the two lie panting on the floor of Nevada’s apartment. Oswald is completely naked, while Nevada still has his pants tangled around his ankles.

Oswald leans over him and gently presses his lips to Nevada’s. Nevada returns the gesture while threading his fingers in Oswald’s hair. He tightens his grip but keeps their kisses soft.

This isn’t their last time. It never is.


End file.
